


A Good or Bad Situation

by OmoTony



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Tony-centric, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmoTony/pseuds/OmoTony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was really regretting how he designed his suit. Removing the ability to go to the bathroom in it was a bad call. And maybe he should have put a bathroom on the quinjet. Now he had a five hour journey to hold his bladder for.<br/>He was surrounded by his teammates and in a suit of armour. This would only end badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good or Bad Situation

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi-chaptered omorashi fanfiction which as of the current plan will have no pairings. It’s my first attempt at this kind of fanfiction so I hope it’s not terrible.

Tony was in a bit of a situation. The team had been called to fight some of the remaining Hydra forces that were causing trouble in Romania.

The fight had gone well, none of the enemies were anything more than goons trying to cause trouble to regain some scraps of the former power they had. The plans had been executed perfectly, the Hydra agents were in Shield custody and the team could relax… well, most of them could.

Now Tony’s situation was perhaps not as dire as some he’s been in, but it may be one of the most embarrassing. About halfway through the battle Tony had registered a pang from his bladder. Which he forgot about as adrenaline was coursing through his veins whilst flying about shooting the nearest enemies.

But now after the battle, when they had all settled in for the five hour quinjet journey back to New York, Tony’s bladder saw fit to remind him of his problem.

And so the situation.

Whilst usually if he had this problem Tony would be able to just waltz into a bathroom no problem, or at least use the filtration system in his suit, this time it was different. In his new suit design he had forgone the filtration system to provide more room for the mechanics of the suit and now he was regretting it because despite being a wonderful piece of tech, his suit was sealed tight and he’d rather not have to sit up to his ankles in his own waste until he could take the suit off. He also regretted not installing an in-flight bathroom on the quinjet. When he had designed it he had built it for speed and its ability to not be shot out of the sky, not convenient toilet facilities.

He would have flown home in the suit, cutting a few hours off of the journey time, but after he had skipped a few too many debriefings Steve had ordered him to stay in the jet.

Now, an hour into the journey, he was starting to think screw Steve’s rules. He’d rather have to face Steve’s angry, kicked puppy face than piss himself like a child in front of his whole team.

They were already giving him strange looks because he was still in his armour. Usually he would change out but he was taking no chances. Just in case he did lose control, he wouldn’t allow them to see it.

What had started as a pang once in a while had now developed into an ache that throbbed occasionally and almost made him vow to stop drinking black coffee, if that were logical. Instead he was now forcing himself to stay still whilst wanting nothing more than to strip of his suit and grab himself to relieve some of the feeling.

He’d pissed himself before so it wasn’t so much the act that bothered him, it was the reason for it. Before he’d been drunk off his ass every time. Whether from a dare or simply drinking too much and not caring. He hadn’t wet himself from desperation since he was five and had been forced to go to a gala that went on too long for a child who was only a few years out of diapers. If he lost control now he would be no better than that.

He had locked the joints in the suit’s legs after he had been shifty and bouncing to try to stop the feeling and his face-plate was firmly blocking his expression from view because anyone with a brain could have figured out his situation from the pained grimace on his face.

He’d had Jarvis mute any sound from the suit when his first whimpers had caught him some concerned glances and questions whether he was alright. Now he was breathing heavily, unable to move to get any relief and dangerously close to losing control.

At the first spurt he softy whispered ‘No’ under his breath, trying to control his bladder muscles seemingly in vain.

The next few drops had him straining, tears appearing in the corner of his eyes from the pain.

The next spurt almost made him lose it. He started crying in earnest now, sobs wracking his frame as his abdomen throbbed in agony. He knew if he took off the suit he would have a wet spot on his pants. Why he’d chosen to wear light blue jeans instead of his customary dark blue or black was beyond him, at least in those it wold have been hard to see as clearly. Anyone would know what had happened in what he was currently wearing.

He was now keeping up a mantra of, ‘No, no, no, no, you can do this, we’ll be back soon, you will not piss yourself like a child, you are better than this. You’re not drunk, you’re not five, and you have no excuse. Even three year olds can hold their piss, you will not wet yourself.’

Whilst the talking and the focus on his words did help it was really a futile effort. The tears and sobs grew as he felt his bladder give way with throb. He felt the wetness spread across his jeans from his crotch, all the way down his legs to pool in his boots like he predicted.

He could feel the stream gushing out of him uncontrollably despite him attempting to stop it. He could hear the hissing and patter as his piss hit metal and fabric, the pungent scent filled his nostrils as he carried on, unable to stop.

At this point he didn’t care. The relief he was now registering as he released was so great, Tony thought he might pass out. If the suits joints weren’t locked he would have collapsed to his knees and thrown his head back. Instead he moaned loudly, never more glad for being muted, as he was sure he sounded like he was having the best orgasm of his life.

He could feel it starting to stop. The last few spurts from his bladder emptied and Tony found himself pushing to get every last drop out. He’d already done the deed so what did it matter if he made sure his bladder was empty.

His piss was warm and showed no signs of cooling. His body heat combined with the suits temperature regulators assured that he would be standing in a warm puddle of his own waste for some time, two hours and how ever long debriefing and getting away from the team to take his suit off in peace would take. That is if Steve didn’t try to take him to medical thinking he had injuries that were keeping him quiet and not the fact he really just had been desperate.

He tried to feel ashamed of what he had done, like he had before he had lost control, but the euphoria of not being in pain stopped him from being able to. Instead he felt mildly embarrassed and really wanted nothing more than to clean himself up and maybe curl up and die.

The only damage was to his pride and if no one else found out about this incident then he would be fine. He definitely needed to install bathrooms on the jets, and reintroduce the filtration system. But as he stood with his crotch still warm from piss, Tony thought, ‘Well maybe not, it’s not a bad feeling. If no one ever finds out… maybe again. It’s not the worst thing, and it feels so good afterwards….’

He was still embarrassed but he was curious, it had felt so good and now he wanted more. But no one could ever find out. If they did he might just leave and never come back and become a hermit in one of his many houses.

**Author's Note:**

> A link to my [Tumblr](http://www.omotony.tumblr.com/)


End file.
